All I want for Xmas
by Lauriesf
Summary: What if you could meet Henry? Pure fluff, which is appropriate at Xmas time, and maybe more. Enjoy ;)


Chance Encounter series – All I want for Christmas

_This is one of a few drabbles I'm writing for my "Chance Encounter" series, mostly about Henry, tho' I wrote and already published one about SG-1's Jack O'Neill. Hope you'll like this one – tiny, fluffy, Xmas gift for you all out there who, like me, are huge Henry fans ;)_

_Disclaimer: I unfortunately don't own BT, its wonderful characters or Kyle, for that matter... Sigh!_

You've been here a couple of days and haven't had time to unpack. Boxes are piled up everywhere in your apartment and you haven't found yet the ones holding your plates. Anyway, it's been pretty hectic since you arrived, what with not even having time to settle, going back to work on the very morning of your arrival. So here you are, making your way in the streets of Toronto, trying to find your bearings and the little Mexican takeaway place you've heard about at work. Cooking will have to wait. Right now, all you need is some comfy food after a hard day's work. You must have taken the wrong turn though because you don't see any sign for a restaurant on that street. It's typically you to get lost, especially when it's freezing cold and you haven't had time to buy a car.

You're ready to turn around and go back the way you came when you suddenly see it and pause. You almost missed it since it's so tiny among all those huge apartment buildings. It's not even a church, just a chapel. It looks ancient. Its stone walls are dark from the pollution of the city but it's the cutest thing you've seen in a long while. It's not all imposing or regal but it feels so homey compared to the modernity of the town that you can't help smile fondly at having happened upon it. For once, something good in your life. You're not a very religious person so you don't know why but it's definitely beckoning to you, telling you to come inside and you tell yourself to indulge a little. You've run all day, why not take some time for yourself. The little chapel might hold more than its greyish walls seem to offer. You smile sadly. Kind of like you in a sense. Your aunt used to tell you when you were a kid that appearances were not everything. That you had to look past them. See what things, or people, for that matter, could really offer. And you've always hoped that one day someone would look at you that way, the way you look at that chapel right now.

You try the lock and surprisingly so, the old wooden door opens, revealing a few pews that have seen better days but most remarkably, marvelous stained-glass windows depicting the miracle of Christmas – very sweet naive representations of Mary and her child, Joseph looking at them with so much love, the shepherds, all the stories you were told about when you were a kid but have come to forget as you grew older and more sarcastic. You realize that this is a troubling coincidence, being here a few days before Christmas, and you think about what a happy family they seem to be and how much you miss your own.

You've never intended to come to this strange city. It wasn't meant to be that way but you had no choice. They made it very clear at work. It was that – accepting the transfer – or you'd have to go. Anyway, you only have a few relatives left – what with your aunt who's just passed away. Sure she was old and it was not that unexpected but – apart from your mum – she was the last remnant of your childhood. Happy memories all along. The one who made cakes for you, the one who always made Thanksgiving dinner for the whole family, the one you always turned to when you needed advice. Her absence, your being all alone in this new environment, your loneliness, they suddenly take their toll. You're not ordinarily a sissy but here you are, standing in front of the cross, weeping like a child.

Through the tears blurring your vision, you see the few candles that were lit when you came inside suddenly become brighter, warmer. You raise your head and brush off your tears with the sleeve of your coat. Oh, great, you think, I'd better get going before I have to account for my behavior. No way I'm gonna let some stranger see me cry. You turn around to head toward the exit. "Don't, please," you hear a warm and deep voice whisper. You spin around and see him. He must be no more than twenty something, sculpted cheekbones, soft-looking curly hair, impossibly blue eyes and a look of concern on his face you've never seen on a stranger's face before, at least for you. "I didn't mean to disturb you," he adds and smiles at you, his piercing blue eyes as if looking right into your soul. "Forgive me for intruding." He takes a step away.

"No, it's all right, don't. I didn't hear you come in. I was just surprised. I didn't think there would be someone at this time of day – night," you add, embarrassed, not daring to look him in the eyes.

He takes a step closer and holds out his hand to you. "I'm Henry..." You tell him your name and take the hand he offers. His skin is incredibly smooth and cool. He keeps your hand in his, gently folding his other hand on it. You suddenly feel safe, protected, as if those hands could shield you from the real world. You don't normally trust strangers, actually you never trust strangers but right here, in this small chapel you do.

"I have to be totally honest with you," he says as he offers you to sit down, "I saw you entering the chapel. Nobody ever comes here except for a few old ladies from the neighboring retirement home. I was curious..." he adds, looking apologetic.

You smile at him for being so plain honest. "I don't know why I came here," you confess. "I was trying to find my way around the city and when I saw it, I felt a strong pull to come inside. Go figure," you add, wincing at how sarcastic that might sound. He laughs softly. "What about you?" you ask. "Why were you here in the first place?" He doesn't look like someone who'd go to church on a regular basis. Actually he looks more like someone you'd meet in a posh restaurant or a nightclub... He's so handsome and well-dressed, you feel ashamed at what you're wearing right now – jeans and your favorite leather jacket that you've changed into when you got home tonight.

He lives next door, he briefly explains, the tall, modern building next to the church.

You suddenly shiver. You now realize you should have worn a pullover under your jacket. The weather here is much colder than you had anticipated. "I don't want you to get cold because of me," he tells you, rubbing your back, a look of concern on his handsome features. "Why don't we go some place warmer? I know a nice Mexican diner down the street..." he offers, adding, "that is if you don't mind my company..."

You chuckle: "I wound up here because I was trying to find that exact restaurant, you know?"

"Well, in that case, let me buy you some dinner. I want to make it up to you for disturbing your peace," he says as he stands and extends his hand to you. You put your hand in his and get up and start to protest. "To welcome you in your new home," he adds, as he leads you outside.

You nod your ascent, touched by his kindness then realize you never told him you'd just arrived. You tell him so. He chuckles as he wraps your arm around his – such an old-fashioned though endearing gesture, you reflect. "You didn't have to. Nobody gets lost around here after a few weeks. Come," he says as he tugs you inside the little restaurant. "I want to hear everything about you."

After the owner has taken your orders – enchilladas and a lemonade for you, some sprinkling water for him as he's already eaten, he says – he folds his hands in front of him: "So?" he asks, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"So..." your voice trails off. You feel self-conscious. "There's not much to say... I just moved here, for work, that's all."

He bends towards you and grabs your hand, looking suddenly serious. "Why were you crying in the chapel?" His question takes you by surprise. You're complete strangers, after all.

You look into his eyes and all you see is concern. He hasn't let go of your hand and is softly rubbing your wrist, which feels wonderful. You feel yourself relax and you only ponder for a second the fact a complete stranger is doing this to you. You should feel spooked but for some unknown reason, you're not. You feel completely safe with him. Your answer comes as a surprise to you. You don't try to ignore the problem, you don't make excuses, you just spill the beans: "My aunt whom I loved dearly has died, I had to transfer here and when I told my boyfriend of three years, he just said we'd better call the whole thing off because he really didn't want to bother with having a long-distance relationship. I feel miserable and lonely..." You haven't looked up at him once but said it all while you were tearing away shards of tissue from the paper napkin set in front of you. You do look him in the eyes now, tears of frustration welling up in your probably more than red eyes and ask defiantly, your chin up and your shoulders squared: "Is that enough or shall I elaborate?"

He laughs softly and grabs both of your hands this time: "No, I got the idea. You're a strong, independent young lady. You'll live through it. And by the way, the guy was a jerk. It's a good thing you got rid of him. He's not worth the air you breathe." You blush and look away. You feel your heart skip a beat and are more than glad when the waitress arrives with your drinks and plate – anything to keep your mind off how gorgeous he looks. Henry smiles up at her: "Could you please bring us a couple of margaritas. We've got something to celebrate." She beams at him, spins around and calls out for the owner who's at the bar: "Two margaritas, boss!"

You cry out in protest: "No!" you blurt out, waving at the waitress's back, trying to get her attention. You turn to Henry and see him grin. "Really, Henry," you whisper, blushing again, "it's really not a good idea."

He chuckles: "You look like a deer caught in a car's headlights, you know?"

You blush some more and mutter: "not nice to make fun of me."

The grin disappears immediately: "Please, don't think I'm mocking you. What's wrong with drinking one alcoholic beverage? You are not driving and I'll gladly get you home safe. My car is parked in front of the church," he adds. He gently tugs at your hands and smiles fondly at you. "I'm not trying to get you drunk. I was raised a gentleman. Whatever happens between us will be because you wish for it, not because I impose it on you. You don't have to fear me. I assure you I'm quite harmless towards the innocent..." he adds ominously and you can't help giggling at him being a threat to anybody. But then, on second thought, as you see his eyes get a couple of shades darker while his mind has obviously drifted away, you wonder...

Your drinks are being set on the table by the waitress and as she does, she confirms your thoughts: "You can trust him. He walked me home a couple of times when there were thugs down the street and believe me, they were no match for him." She smiles at both of you then leaves, saying: "Enjoy!" and you look at him in dismay. "I would not have pegged you as a dangerous man..." You're half-stating, half-joking so he chuckles and grins at you: "I'm no danger to ladies, I promise. I only want the city to be safe." On that, he lifts his glass and locking eyes with yours, offers a toast, adding: "Let's talk about more joyful prospects, shall we?" You nod and smile. It's not as if you didn't need a nice evening, away from the worries of everyday life.

You spend the next hour conversing over food and as you finish your coffee, he gets up and goes to pay for the tab then holds out your coat for you: "I guess it's time for us to get you home."

You can't help yawning and cover it with your hand in embarrassment. He chuckles as he lets his hands rest a couple more seconds on your shoulders than needed while he wraps your coat around you. "I'm sorry," you say apologetically.

"Don't be," he answers, smiling warmly at you. You both say your goodbyes to the owner and waitress and head for the door. As he holds the door for you and you pass him, he gently grabs your hand. You're both wearing gloves but you can feel the static. He smiles and turns to you: "I felt it too." You smile at him, finally accepting that this is not a dream. He's right there with you, it's Xmas time and you tell yourself this might be your own Xmas miracle – someone looking at you with such tenderness, you're melting under his midnight blue gaze. He leads you down the street, his arm around your waist now and you snuggle into his embrace and sigh with content.

"I'm not used to doing this," you tell him as you reach his car – a beautiful vintage Jaguar.

He looks at you and smiles fondly: "I know. I wouldn't have been pulled to you if you were. I like you," he adds, smiling some more.

You smile back at him: "I like you too." He wraps his arm more closely around your waist and pulls you towards him for a tender kiss. His lips lightly brush yours. They feel wonderful, cool and soft. He nudges your neck and kisses his way down your jaw, sending shivers down your spine.

"Cold, my lady," he asks, chuckling.

"A little," you answer shyly.

He ushers you in the car and slips in the driver's seat in no time, turning the heater on and turns to you, his eyes twinkling with desire and you notice that they've gotten a shade darker. They now look completely black. You're mesmerized by how dark and dangerous he suddenly looks – tall, dark, handsome, you tell yourself and can't help chuckling as you realize you actually love that. He's told you already – he's no danger to you and you believe him, trust him with your life, something you've never done with anyone before. He looks surprised and his eyes get back to a more normal shade. "Some private joke you care to share, my lady?" he asks you, his eyes never leaving yours.

You blush and decide to be honest about it: "For one moment I had the impression you were someone else, someone dark and dangerous..."

He doesn't look offended and doesn't try to negate your statement. Instead he asks you defiantly, his eyes still intent on yours, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth: "And what if I were?"

"I couldn't care less," you answer, a hint of rebellion in your own voice.

His grin widens in a Puck's smile as he inches closer to you, his soft, cool hands gently taking hold of your flushed face, his thumbs rubbing soft patterns on your temples and you feel yourself melt under his now smoldering gaze. Just before his mouth reaches yours, he brushes his lips on your jaw and neck, his blunt teeth grazing your skin ever so slightly, making your body crave for his touch and your senses go into overdrive as his tongue wreaks havoc in your mouth, making you moan for more.

_I hope you enjoyed my story. I leave the rest to your (wild) imagination._

_I wish each and every of you a very Merry Xmas. May you all have sweet dreams and everything you wish for. _

_I asked Santa Claus for a BT beta reader this year so if anyone of you feels my stories are worth it, please, don't hesitate to contact me._


End file.
